


Restart:Refresh:Restart

by Prumery



Category: Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: Death, M/M, Torture, dark themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 11:26:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4958791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prumery/pseuds/Prumery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What’re you doing? You’re killing Gilbert!”<br/>There was actual worry there. Maybe if he had given himself a chance to be human, America wouldn’t be wrist deep in his chest.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Restart:Refresh:Restart

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [1, 1, 64-65](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4615995) by [proosh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/proosh/pseuds/proosh). 



> Oh god this is the first time i've written something so heavy.  
> There are a lot of things here that ive never done hnngg im sorry

To say that everything America did for Alfred was short of magic would be an understatement.  
Since their meeting a couple decades ago, America was very wary of Prussia. Nations had been created separately from their human form, and yet not at the same time.  
Prussia… Prussia never exactly completely ‘formed’ Gilbert.  
Somewhere along the lines of their existence, someone had thought that a nation down to its carnal emotions was too much of a hassle, and too much pure emotions. They had decided that once a nation was made, they were… ‘convinced’ to make a human part of themselves.  
America doesn’t exactly remember his ‘convincing’. He only remembers feeling as if he was split in two. His emotions had become more basic, more unmovable. He became a permanent smile, and a permanent glow.  
It came with the stereotype, to put it simply.  
Prussia.  
Then there was Prussia.  
Prussia was a permanently etched shit eating smirk; A permanent ‘hide your wallet’ feeling. A permanent grin that made the hairs at the back of your neck prickle and your entire body form into a protective barrier of fight or flight.  
Gilbert was exactly like that. The permanent smirk, the look, the asshole nature. The loud talks, the loud laughs.  
But he smiled.  
He had this smile, that his eyes would fall, and his lips would curve. And his eyes would sparkle and he would lower his shoulders only slightly, because he was still so much like Prussia, and he smiled.  
No wonder Alfred was completely infatuated by him. America felt a flicker of an emotion as he saw Gilbert appear.  
“America. How long has it been?”  
America rolled his neck, blinked and doing math. He had always been a lot quieter and a lot calmer than his humanity.  
“Two hundred and thirty-nine years, six months, two days,” America said gently. The smile plastered on his face wasn’t so hard, and his eyes didn’t feel so emotionless, and so empty.  
Maybe Alfred was starting to rub off on him.  
“Always the counter,” Gilbert said, nervously scratching the back of his neck. That was a trait that he himself held. Unfortunately for Prussia, Gilbert did manage to escape his complete grasp of power.  
“I do wish we could meet more often, America.”  
“Same with me.”  
Gilbert smiled his smile, and America felt that flicker again.  
Be still.  
“You… Alfred had said you wanted to talk to me.”  
“And he was right.”  
“About?”  
America grew uncomfortable. The smile he had worn drew down a little. The worry lines on his forehead furrowed and his unusually tan face grew a bit pale.  
Gilbert had to lean forward. He was interested in the matter that made the country so uncomfortable.  
“Alfred has mentioned some worrying things about you and Prussia.”  
That drew a look.  
Gilbert’s face was still, but his eyes grew stormy. There was a flurry of emotions, mainly confusion and surprise.  
Gilbert and Prussia both shared emotions. America felt a flutter of what he thought was jealousy, but then it fell away into nothing again. Jealous because Prussia had emotions and didn't.  
“…What exactly has he mentioned?”  
“That he appears more often than not. That you haven’t had a day to yourselves without him intruding and making him have an emotional breakdown.”  
America coughed into his hand, turning to the side, but not keeping Gilbert out of his line of sight. Gilbert had become stronger than Prussia in the newer years, but he still feared the power hungry monster.  
_Monster._  
What a cruel word. It falls short explaining who Prussia is.  
At times, America wondered why Alfred had such a look on him when he saw Prussia. It was a confused, but nonetheless accepted, twitch of Alfred’s.  
To shy away from Gilbert’s touch. To lean against it when given correctly.  
America wanted to hurl at the monstrosity that was… well, whatever they were.  
America could say that he hated whatever Alfred felt for the identity in front of him. But Alfred was his most emotional part of himself.  
America loved nothing, Alfred loved everything.  
He liked to imagine that one day he could share that with him.  
“Oh… those moments.”  
He rolled his shoulder, and America noticed that he was growing comfortable. Prussia was dormant. It wasn’t a surprise, he wasn’t very strong as of late.  
Pity tickled his throat for a second, but then it fleeted away, and America returned to himself again.  
“He… has appeared more often than not. He’s been plaguing most of Alfred’s emotions and memories. It’s become a hassle, as every time he fronts, he starts to breath incorrectly.”  
“I didn’t wish that on him.”  
“I know, I know you better than that,” America smiled that not forced smile when Gilbert raised his eyebrows. He smiled that smile, and America wanted to punch him in the face.  
“…He’s dying.”  
Gilbert sat up straight, staring at America with a confused gaze. He started to breathe a little heavily, and America held his hand out in a way to shut him up.  
“Don’t. He will come up faster.”  
Gilbert blinked in a rapid session, and he coughed, bringing himself down from his panic. He then grew apathetic again, and America smiled that forced smile, and shook his head.  
“Good. Now listen.”  
He leaned forward, his hands folding onto his lap. Gilbert stared at him, feeling intimidated by the powerhouse.  
“He’s weak. He’s dying. If he dies, he’ll bring you with him.”  
There was a silence. No surprise from Gilbert, as he understood that Prussia would go down with a fight. The hunger and absolute silence behind red eyes was a terrifying sight to see, as America remembers seeing him once.  
“…You have a plan?”  
That made a genuine smirk come onto America’s face. He leaned back again, kicked up his leg, and shook his head. The self righteousness that Alfred barely held was there.  
“Of course. I would not have brought you if I did not,”

 

* * *

  
“No. This is insane, I can’t--“  
“Yes you can. He didn’t realize that you became your own person when Prussia fell. His power let you go.”  
“…”  
“…Why are you scared?”  
“I’ll lose myself.”  
“Listen.” A rustle of clothing and America leans back. His baby blues lock with bright red and he stares. He’s quiet for a moment, the tell signs that Alfred has was starting to push a bit through the front.  
“You won’t lose yourself.”  
“How do you know this.”  
“… I heard about doing this before.”  
“With?”  
“Heracles.”  
Gilbert’s eyes widened, and he looked up at him. America had used their old name. Greece, a long time ago, had decided that Heracles had been too much of a hassle. He had tried, and failed, to absorb Heracles.  
This being done, Greece had never expected Heracles to fight back. He’d given too much humanity to him, and Heracles wasn’t going down without a fight.  
He had been the only instance to have a human take a nation.  
“… What’d he say?”  
America leaned forward again. He had a tendency to speak closely, as if every matter was private, as if every matter was life threatening.  
“He kept his favorite memory. He kept it, and held onto it. He disassociated from his body, and made sure to concentrate on being human.”  
Gilbert stared at him, at his blue eyes. America was so void of anything but faux smiles and care that Gilbert found it hard to find real emotions.  
There was real care there. For only a second.  
“So…”  
“Pick a memory, and live in it. And do not come out unless you’re told.”  
That made a sort of fight come up in Gilbert. He doesn’t want to be told anything, he doesn’t need it. He’s fucking Gilbert, of course he would fight back.  
But then he stared at America, and saw the cold eyes, and remembers when Alfred appears, they turn bright. And soft. And his face is so warm and inviting and years of pain are melted away when he sees Alfred’s face.  
He loves him.  
A memory fluttered behind Gilbert's face. The first time he saw Alfred come out. To see America's face relax, and his eyes turn into wonderful stories waiting to be told. When Alfred took his hand after the wall fell and held him tight, and told him he was going to be okay.  
Gilbert let out a tsk, then sat back. His eyes traced America’s legs, then his chest, and then rested on his face. He had a tendency to take in a person at times, something completely different than Prussia, who always looked like he had some sort of horizon based vision. Always staring over your shoulder, waiting for a move, and surveying his surroundings.  
America was more unnerved by Gilbert. Gilbert had emotions, and acted upon them. He accepted them, and let himself live in them. Like a human.  
Prussia knew he had emotions.  
America felt pangs of what felt like jealousy at that, but he digresses.  
He, unlike the other countries, decided to ignore them. To erase them. To make himself into more of a monster than he already was.  
America hated Prussia.  
He really did.  
“Did you find the memory?”  
Gilbert stared at him, giving him a nod of his head. America stood up, and pulled out a rope from his jacket.  
“… Alright. Now listen carefully--“  


 

* * *

Gilbert’s eyes had closed about thirteen minutes ago. America stared at his watch, seeing the arm tick away time, and he waited for Prussia to front.  
“Idiot. Forces me to go into the depths of his disgusting mind.”  
There we are.  
Prussia raised his head slowly, his eyes dark and lifeless. His face was almost a complete slate except for that shit eating smirk that unnerved America. He would never admit to that, though.  
“Well. Seems that Gilbert is into some kinky shit. Not surprising,” he said, pulling at the rope then cocking his head. He quirked his brow, and the smile curled a little more on his left.  
Asshole.  
“I’m not here for a chit chat, Prussia,” America said, setting himself in the chair in front of him. He leaned forward, not getting close to Prussia, but enough that the nation had to look at him from the bottom of his gaze.  
“Oh? And what do you wish, my liege.” He bowed his head, laughing and then throwing his head back and letting out a guffaw.  
America felt his blood boil. This man was nothing but a problem; A pin at his side since the first day Alfred laid his gaze on the Prussian.  
America could not put into words how much he hated Prussia. How much he wished that Gilbert was Prussia. That this identity didn’t exist.  
But America isn’t God.  
“I’m not here for your fucking jokes--“  
Prussia smirked at that, rolling his head and looking away from America. He didn’t meet his gaze, but he knew the albino still had him in his sights. This was a tendency of his, to brush off things in front of his face, to make sure that the person talking to him seemed invalid.  
Bastard.  
“Hm… Seems that we’re going to have a boring talk then,” he said, his eyes lidded and raising his head to look at America with the bottom of his sight again.  
If Prussia wasn’t so full of himself, he’d say he was blind.  
“No. I have an interesting offer for you,” he whispered angrily, grabbing the man’s shirt and rumpling it. He brought him into his face, and stared at Prussia.  
No sense of Gilbert there. No humanity. And even if there was, Prussia was hiding it, and bottling it. He was good at doing this, he’d been doing it for years.  
“See here, Prussia,” Alfred pulled out a knife, and ripped his shirt. Prussia only quirked a brow, but said nothing as he began to show his collar and some parts of his muscles. The long iron cross glittered in the sharp light in the room, and America wrapped the sharp blade around the necklace.  
He tugged and then stared into blood red orbs.  
“I… need you to leave and Gilbert to front. Permanently.” He smiled at Prussia, his eyes closing as his faux smile was plastered onto his face again. There was a weird air of hatred, as he was oozing downright loathing, and America’s smile grew wider, along with his perfect blue eyes.  
His teeth were unnaturally white, and it almost made his dark skin look practically fake.  
Prussia smirked right back at him.  
“What makes you think I’d do that, hm?” He whispered, his voice full of venom. America gently ran a finger up his chin, then pressed the knife to his chest.  
“You don’t want to die, do you?”  
Prussia’s smile fell slightly. There was a flicker of fear, and then he was back to that deadpan look. America began to press the knife into the albino’s chest, blood dripping down his smooth skin.  
“I know how Heracles got rid of Greece. A couple of kisses, and a hard enough thrust, and he’s practically spilling everything to me.”  
Prussia didn’t waver in his apathetic stance. But his fingers did curl against the rope holding his wrists together.  
“…You wouldn’t do that. Gilbert would be lost inside you--“  
“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong,” he said, standing up and pushing back his chair. He pulled out another rope, lifting Prussia’s neck and then wrapping the rope around it. An audible swallow made his Adam’s apple bob, and there was that flicker again.  
“Gilbert wants me to do this--“  
Prussia began to writhe. America found it hard to hold him immobile as he did a knot to keep Prussia’s neck still.  
“You fucking piece of shi--“  
“You think those words hurt me?” America gripped Prussia’s hair, staring into deep red eyes and then feeling spit hit his cheek.  
Prussia began to breathe heavily, gasping at the weird angle in his neck. America wiped his face, and set the tip of the sharp knife against his pale neck.  
“You think that I’m going to untie you for your name calling, huh?” His fingernails dug into his chin, an America’s eyes grew dark.  
“You’re just a mongrel. A disgusting old war dog with no purpose in life.” He smiled that smile, his voice awkward to the pretty, false grin. He ran the knife down his neck, then quickly held it against Prussia’s throat.  
The country began to kick, but America put enough pressure on his jugular to make him motionless again.  
“You’ve kicked your last time, Prussia. All you are now is a flea bitten piece of filth, curling up and looking for a place to die.”  
America let out a laugh. A sick laugh, something perverse that would send Alfred to the hills. Prussia was staring at him, his terrified look not hidden anymore.  
“Think that just pissing on some land makes it yours? Belongs to you? Raping, and pillaging, and taking by fucking force?  
“This is a new century, Prussia. There is no use for you. The grass was never fucking green on the other side, Prussia! Don’t you see?” America leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Prussia’s. He dropped the knife, and then rubbed his nose against Prussia’s, laughing loudly.  
“Don’t you see it? We’re nothing. Dust to fucking dust, just fighting for nil, and becoming monsters for our masters.” He gripped his hair and kissed the man’s mouth. It was nothing romantic, nothing at all. Nothing but power. Sick, and twisted power over the man in the chair.  
The man who helped him fight. The man who taught him to demand, and not take no in return. The man who taught him to be bloodthirsty.  
The man Alfred fell in love with.  
“We’re just fucking dogs, and you fought your last battle.”  
Prussia let out a sickening cry as America pressed his hand against his chest. As he did, his fingers stretched across his chest, becoming a sort of light. Prussia’s skin started molding around his hand, and he was starting to scream louder.  
“Fuck you!” He screamed, fighting against the restraints, kicking with no use. His shouts were so full of pain, and torture, and absolute horror that there was no more gender to his voice. Only agony.  
America stared, transfixed, and dug his fingers deeper, feelings warmth start to trickle into his hand. Prussia’s nose was starting to drip blood and his eyes were wide.  
“What’re you doing? You’re killing Gilbert!”  
There was actual worry there. Maybe if he had given himself a chance to be human, America wouldn’t be wrist deep in his chest.  
“I’m not,” He whispered, digging his hand a bit deeper, and starting to feel Prussia’s body give into the higher superpower. Being able to break his psyche, even briefly, gave him enough of an advantage to start to pull his body into America’s.  
Prussia let out a blood curdling scream, blood and skin dripping off of him. His eyes were starting to roll into his head at the amount of pain he was going through, and the fact that he was losing himself.  
The sounds of ripping and tearing and breaking bones filled America’s ears. A long time ago, he remembered doing this. Of course, the process had been different.  
This was taking in a complete and utter identity. Taking them away from the world of the living to keep them hidden in the vastness of another plane. Of the plane of existence, and the plane were only him and Alfred existed.  
Back then, America had taken only a fragment. His brother’s body had stayed, stayed here to rot and turn into putrefied flesh, and have the humanity America never had.  
Hot tears dripped down Prussia’s cheeks. Half of his body was gone into America’s, and there was only a pulsing light and America stared down at his body.  
“You brought this upon yourself,” America’s voice grew emotion, as what Prussia fought to repress was filling his heart. He had never felt so many emotions, so much grief, and sorrow, and fear.  
This is what Prussia felt right now.  
It was beautiful.  
“You made yourself into a monster, and lost emotions. This wasn’t you, this was never you,” he whispered, and pressed his head against Prussia’s. He wasn’t scared anymore. He was sad. He was crying and sobbing and he was finally feeling human.  
“I just… Wanted to be cared for...” Prussia whispered, his eyes fluttering as his body began to die. America stared at him, then smiled.  
“Alfred fell in love with you first.”  
He kissed him, not seeing more tears start to fall, and then felt Prussia completely and fully become one with him.

 

* * *

  
Gilbert woke up in what seemed like water. Permanent warmth, and glow, and he felt like he was drowning while breathing.  
His eyes opened slowly, and he sat up on nothing. It was as if the air, or mass, or whatever controlled this was floating around him, holding him upright.  
He stared down at his hands, seeing his fingers turn into a blur, reshape, then come back as another hand, or glove, or jacket.  
He knit his brows, looking up and seeing a blond man sitting on a sofa, calmly smiling at him. His body blurred into a revolutionary war outfit, then blurred into a bomber jacket and slacks, then back to a set outfit that stayed for longer.  
He realized that it was every pair of clothing the man had worn in his memories when he fronted.  
Gilbert also realized that he had very few. While Alfred was cycling in and out of clothing from different places and his hair frayed and curled and straightened, Gilbert only had three set clothes.  
It wasn’t surprising. Prussia’s hold had been very tight on Gilbert.  
“You made it,”  
A voice echoed in his head, and then another person appeared. America stood in front of him, wearing casual slacks and a button up. He looked… different than Alfred.  
A lot.  
America had a long braid, black --, almost void black -- hair. He was Native American, with tan red skin and a feathered headdress meant for warriors on his head.  
The man smiled, and his dark eyes twinkled. Gilbert felt his face redden, as he realized that this wasn’t Alfred at all.  
“This is my original form… Unfortunately, when Alfred was made, I… was made into that,” he said, turning to Alfred who appeared beside him.  
Gilbert went to him, wrapping his arms tightly around his lover. He could feel him. He could feel care radiating from him, he could feel love and grief and…  
“I love you,” Gilbert said, trying not to cry. Even though he had been different than Prussia, he still had been very hard on his emotions.  
Alfred smiled at America, who rolled his eyes, and crossed his arms.  
“It was a pain to do this. You better treat him right.” America wagged his finger at Alfred who shook his head, and rubbed his face against Gilbert’s.  
“You’re here to stay?”  
“Hopefully.”  
America’s face grew sullen as the lovers disappeared to god knows where. Headspaces were weird that way.  
America sat down on nothing, feeling his body start to float. Tears dripped down his cheeks and he inhaled; The weirdness of emotions starting to settle in his stomach getting easier.  
What America didn’t tell Alfred was that soon enough Gilbert would disappear. Without people to be Prussia, there was no Gilbert. Unless people did become “Prussian”, there was no way in hell Gilbert could reform into a better Prussia.  
Soon enough, Gilbert’s body would become less formed. Gilbert’s voice will become quieter. Gilbert will stop ceasing to be.  
And soon enough, America will have to explain to Alfred why there are some memories missing. Or why it hurt to see the name “Gilbert”.  
But all in due time, he believes.  
Right now, all he has to do is restart.


End file.
